


Sweet Sleeping Kisses

by AFrostByTrade



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: FOR THE REVOLUTION!, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I don't know how I wrote this, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFrostByTrade/pseuds/AFrostByTrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13024.html?thread=6407648#t6407648<br/>"Enjolras has a tendency to fall asleep all over the place. Grantaire has made a habit of kissing Enjolras whenever he sees him asleep. Forehead, cheek, hands, wherever he sees fit.<br/>One time he does it though, E is awake. What happens next is obviously up to you!"<br/>So yeah, lots of fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sleeping Kisses

Grantaire has a problem. He wouldn't call it that, but to the average person, it was as such. For him, it had become a sort of second addiction, even worse than his to the bottle. He couldn't quite recall when it started, perhaps at the same time as the episodes, perhaps a bit after. All he knows it that he enjoys it, and that thus far, he has not been caught.

Enjolras knows he should seek help. He's practically narcoleptic, falling asleep in places he shouldn't, at times he shouldn't. One moment, he's fine, all bright eyed and attentive. Then, in the next, he's out cold. His last straw was when he passed out into his dinner. Waking up with soup in his hair wasn't fun, nor was it funny when his friends took pictures to post online. That was the last time he'd allow himself to blank out.

Grantaire was tempted to walk across the room from the second Enjolras rested his head on the table. He knew it would be a bad idea, with the meeting being so close. Everyone else would be there in 30 minutes. But.... It was 30 whole minutes. 30 minutes to worship his precious Apollo, to stare openly in adoration, to plant light reverent kisses on his god. R rose from his corner, dusting himself off a bit, took another swig from his bottle, and swaggered over to the unconscious man. He sat down right next to him, so close that he was breathing in the other's scent. Passion, that was how he'd describe the fragrance. Grantaire stroked Enjolras's hair lovingly, whispering to him. “Rest dear Apollo. You are just as incredible resting as you are any other time. Completely stunning.” Grantaire leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his temple.

Enjolras had started to come back to consciousness not even five minutes after he rested his head on the table. The Musain was empty when he had arrived, with there being plenty of time before the meeting would start, so he thought to take a power nap in hopes to prevent another narcoleptic episode around them. He heard someone stirring, but it was much too early for anyone else to have arrived, so he dismissed it. Until he heard someone pull out the chair beside him. His head was facing the opposite direction, so he couldn't see who it was. But then they started petting him. 'Who is this stranger? And the nerve they have, assaulting a sleeping man!' He thought. Then, he heard them speak. “Rest dear Apollo.” 'Dear Apollo? Apollo... Oh.' Enjolras quickly recognized the drunkard's pet name for him. 'Oh no. He must be drunk again. He surely wouldn't act this way sober. Maybe I should-' His thoughts were interrupted when the most impossibly soft lips pressed gently to the side of his head. Enjolras froze under the touch, having not been prepared for such a thing. Even after R had returned to his corner, he stayed stock still, trying to process what had happened. He was sleeping, he woke up, Grantaire pet him, then...... He shook the thought from his head. He couldn't think about it now. He had a speech to prepare for.

Shortly after R sat back in his usual slump, Enjolras rose from his slumber. His perfect Enjolras. He wondered if the other knew of the happenings in his sleep. If he attributed them to a dream. (or nightmare, more likely) As the others started to file in, he let himself slip away temporarily, thinking on earlier. There were so many things different about this time than there were before. He didn't have too much time to think on it, fore Courfeyrac and Bossuet were approaching him.

“Hey 'Taire.”

“Courf, Boss. What's up?” Bossunet just shrugged his shoulders. It was a sign that whatever happened, it was to be blamed on Courfeyrac.

“Not much. Just a few annoying rats. Got a bit scuffed up, but other than that-”

“You fought feds and lived?!” Grantaire nearly choked on his wine. If that spread, if Enjolras caught wind of it...

“Calm down. No one's gonna tell him. You think I actually want to sit through another one of his 'Peace for Patria' rants.”

“Then don't do anything that deserves one, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras said evenly from across the Musain. Both boys glared at Courf.

“Nice going.” Bossunet nudged him.

He merely shrugged in response, and sat across from his friend.“So 'Taire, what are we drinking tonight?”

“Same as every other night Courf. I don't see why you keep asking that, when I know you know the answer.”

He and Bossunet exchanged knowing smirks. “Oh, I don't know. Call me an optimist, but I have a feeling it won't always be that.” Courf leaned back in his chair, before being tipped the rest of the way back to the floor by Joly.

“That's for leaving me behind.” The usually sweet boy hissed. His clothes were tattered and he looked worn out.

“You were with them?” Grantaire questioned.

Joly nodded his response. “I was until someone decided to bolt on me.” He continued to glare at their friend.

“I told you you can't keep up.” The other defended himself. That just earned him more dirty looks. After a moment of silence, he tried to break it. “Where's Combeferre? Him and Jehan are normally the first ones here, aren't they?”

The others looked around before giving up, realizing that the pair probably weren't going to be in attendance that evening. “Looks like we'll have some 'information' to exchange then tomorrow.” Bossunet chuckled. Joly stifled a giggle, while Courfeyrac took to laughing his way to tears.

Enjolras took his place at the front of the room and things began to quiet down. “Time to get to business.” He started with a smile.

Grantaire couldn't focus for most of it. He got bits and pieces, like about other cell groups, like theirs, avoiding infiltration from spies, places to attain weapons if necessary, future protests, and things of the like. But mostly, his attention was on Enjolras's lips. That was the one place he had refused to kiss while his Apollo slept. It would be too wrong, as if he were sullying the perfection with his touch. It was difficult to restrain, though it was necessary. He couldn't do it, so he sat in wonder. Were they as soft as his skin, as smooth as the words that pass through him, their taste as powerful and overwhelming as his scent? He allowed his mind to wander, giving none of his usual banter and garble. _'Let tonight be a quiet one for the drunk.'_ He mused a subtle smile playing on his features.

Enjolras was distracted while giving his speech tonight. And to add insult to injury, he was distracted by Grantaire's, well, his everything. His lips, in particular, seeing as though this might have been the first time he's seen them unoccupied, neither by bottle nor by words. This was the same man that would always find something to comment on, the same drunk who could barely make it out of the meeting on his own two feet. _'The same man who kissed me earlier.'_ He thought, when there was a pause in his speech. He forced himself to forget about it and continue with the matter at hand. “And so, with the help of the group from Saint Patrick's, we could accomplish twice as much. They've seen more than us, and have a lot of really great strategies.”

Once his speech was done, his friends started to leave as swiftly as they had come, eager to go out that night.

“Grantaire,” He said before the dark-haired man could reach the door. The figure looked over his shoulder. “If you wouldn't mind waiting a bit. I uhh-” He began to trip over his words. “I want to talk.”

Grantaire chuckled. “Have you not done enough talking already? I thought, for sure, if I let you go uninterpreted for once, you'd be happy.” He started towards the blond. “I suppose all the extra chatter helps you quell you're need for verbal exchange.”

“Actually,” Enjolras started, once the other was directly in front of him. He steeled his nerves and leaned in to kiss the other man. He was clumsy and unprepared, but the recipient welcomed it anyway, embracing him.

“Enjolras,” He breathed once they broke away. His face was happy, but questioning, like he couldn't believe what had happened.

“Shhh.” The revolutionary pressed another chaste kiss to his cynic's lips.

“I don't understand.” The cynic continued. He was dreaming, had to be. That was the only way something like this could go on. Right?

“I was awake.”

The drunk's eyes went wide as he started to back away from the god before him. 'He knows. Oh no. He knows. And this is punishment. Build me up, then drop me.'

As if the blond boy could read his mind, he pulled the cynic closer and spoke. “I wish you had done it while I was awake. I wish you had just told me sooner.” He breathed in the other's ear. “I wish I had known that all this time...” The reply was a kiss, less gentle than before, and growing increasingly so. It was passionate, all tongues and teeth and conquest exploring new territory. Enjolras found his hands tangled in his lover's hair, pulling him in closer and closer until all he could feel was Grantaire. R placed his hands carefully on his god's hips, being sure to not smother him. It was all so surreal, to be so intimate with the man he was enamored with. When they finally broke away again, needing to breathe, they held each others' gaze, watching as they regained composure.  
“'Taire.” Enjolras whimpered, clinging to the artist.  
“It's okay. I'm here Enjy” He breathed into his neck, placing open mouth kisses and nipping at exposed skin.   
Enjolras smiled and hugged Grantaire closer to him, for he knew things were better than okay. They were perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. My first fill so all feedback is welcomed, even encouraged. Just felt like writing a cute fluffy E/R fic. I feel like there aren't enough of those.


End file.
